One Cloud Over
by every1hingyouever
Summary: This time, Gus isn't the one who has heartbreaking news to deliver...a continuation of the story if the fault had fallen with different stars. AU from Amsterdam - onwards. Credit for TFIOS universe to John Green.
1. Release

We sat quietly on the bench, my eyes locked on the canal. I was still tense; my stomach was aching. Gus still wore that adorable, goofy expression that constantly captured his personality. He kept looking at me. Why was it so hard for me to tell him?

I didn't want to reverse what he'd brought me. It wasn't fair to him that I might suddenly have to leave – it wasn't fair for him to lose two girls. I was so scared that the cancer might not give him enough time, and here I was worrying about my own.

"Gus…" He glanced up immediately, and I froze again. That smile. "I went in for my checkup a few days before we came." The smile faded a little; I could tell he was chewing on the inside of his lip. I decided I'd better not keep him in suspense. "The colony in my lungs…when I had that last attack, it reached my bloodstream. The meds couldn't stop everything. They gave me a CT scan while I was there, and…"

Augustus' face had gone from beaming to confused. His eyes were locked on me, struggling to understand what I was saying. I pleaded silently for him to be calm.

"…the cancer spread to my liver, Gus. Maybe farther, we don't know." A huge breath escaped from him. I hadn't noticed that he'd stopped breathing.

He swallowed slowly, looking down at my hand. I'd been crushing his fingers, I guess. Gus lifted it, looking defeated. Wondering what intrigued him so much, I peered down, too. The skin around my fingers had grown tight and yellow; the new cancer in my body was already showing itself.

"How are you feeling?" Oh god. He sounded like Patrick.

"I'm fine," I choked, trying not to show my disappointment. I wanted him to act all sarcastic and treat me like a person, not a kid.

He seemed to notice his mistake, but he was too far gone to change. He stood up suddenly. Breathing heavily, Gus repeatedly tried to say something but couldn't seem to form his words. It sounded to me like a lot of grunting, like I'd broken every civilized sense he had in him.

"Hazel." I jerked at the sound of his voice – it was so forced, rougher than I'd heard it before. "Please, don't…" he trailed off, standing at the edge of the canal and staring into the water. I was getting seriously concerned now. To hell with my cancer – I was worried about his sanity.

"Don't what?" I asked nervously, fumbling for the oxygen tank so I could stand up. If he jumped, would I be able to grab him in time?

"Don't…break up with…I promise you, my feelings won't change…" he blurted out, still chewing his lip and having a staring contest with the bottom of the canal.

I laughed out loud. "Augustus Waters, you're worried about _me_ breaking up with _you?_ I'm honored."

Gus played uncomfortably with his own hands. I had to stifle the giggles to even breathe, let alone to hear his answer. "Well…you know, with Caroline and all, I just want you to know that you're different…"

I was practically wheezing. "Maybe you're right. You're too sensitive for me."

He turned his head. "Wha-" I cut him off with a kiss before he could wrap his head around my answer.

"I'm not going anywhere, Stumpy."

He frowned halfheartedly. "That is _not_ funny!"

I bit my lip. Maybe I'd taken it too far.

"Hey, hey. Come here." It was amazing how easily Gus could read my thoughts. He pulled me into his arms, switching roles with me in a matter of seconds.

I finally let the emotions run free. "I'm scared, Gus. I don't want to lose everything."

He pulled me closer and I felt the air being sucked into his chest. "You're not losing anything, Hazel Grace. I'll make sure of that."

For a few seconds, I could breathe again.

* * *

Our plane touched back down without a sound, or so it seemed. Mom openly couldn't keep her hands off me after she knew I'd told Gus (I wouldn't have minded this from him). Sure, Amsterdam had been sort of a bust, but she didn't know half of _my_ trip. She didn't know about the Anne Frank house, or tasting the stars, or our Venn diagram humor…my cheeks turned scarlet every time that last one crossed my mind. What Mom did know was that I was in danger of losing everything, and she wasn't taking it lightly.

After leaving the hospital before the trip, she'd fought and cried and begged for me to cancel my flight. To save it for another time. To focus on getting better. The only reason my wish had pulled through was because both of us knew the truth; neither of those things would actually happen.

I glanced over at Gus, sound asleep in his seat by the window. Gravel whooshed by the outline of his head – we were almost at the terminal. I poked my finger into his ear.

"Gah! Hazel?" Jerking awake, he swatted at the air. I smiled triumphantly.

We made our way to the lobby, where Dad was waiting with hugs. I stifled a laugh when Gus' face was smushed into my father's chest; he was still grumpy from his nap on the plane. After the assortment of bags and bodies was piled into the car, I took the chance to approach him.

"Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?"

We said it at the exact same time, which he found incredibly funny. That boy's sense of humor never failed to interrupt serious moments.

"You go first."

"No, you go first."

"Oh, for Christ's sake."

"Christ, as in Jesus, whose Literal Heart we gathered in?"

"Yes, that one. He's annoyed."

Gus smirked, slipping a cigarette out of his pocket. "I desperately missed these on the plane."

"That's exactly the sort of thing that annoys Jesus."

I didn't think it was possible for his smile to get bigger, but it did. "So, _are_ you okay?"

I looked down at my shoes. One of them had a big, black scuff mark on the toe. I had a big, black scuff mark on my liver. "Yeah, I'm holding up."

He raised his eyebrows, then leaned closer to me. I thought he was going to whisper something cute or maybe kiss me on the cheek, but _no-_ my scuffed feet flew into the air as he lifted me bridal-style and hoisted me into the car. "What was that for?" I growled at him.

The toothy grin was still plastered on his face. "That was for Jesus!"

I punched him in the arm and he shut up.


	2. Starfish

I was a starfish that day. Limbs splayed out on top of my bed, I felt like I was floating on an endless wave of warmth. The tree outside creaked playfully, and waves of fresh heat hissed through the slit in my window. Everything was perfect.

Except, you know, the fact that I had cancer.

I let out a melancholy sigh. Maybe I could just pass away here in this room, in the sunshine, and everyone would understand that I was actually happy. I'd been pretty bipolar recently, drifting between periods of having no more will to walk up and down the stairs and wanting to experience everything I could while I was still able to. Of course, I didn't like to think about leaving this world at all, so I usually distracted myself by reading and re-reading my favorite books, leaving out Van Houten's….

The tree creaked again, sending a ripple of sound into my bedroom and breaking my stream of thoughts.

"Juliet!" a muffled whisper called up to the window. The tree was starting to sound a lot less like a tree. I heaved myself off of the bed, almost falling on my face and stubbing my toe on a stack of books near the foot of the bedpost. My limbs ached from being splayed out like a corpse all morning. My mouth open, half in pain and half in a curious O, I made it to the window.

Sure enough, Gus and not the tree was moving around in the yard below. He held a daisy in his left hand, clutching it like I was clutching life itself.

"You should stop trying to outdo yourself and your metaphors. I don't get this one," I fleered at him, secretly happy to see him as it had been ages since our last encounter. Over the weeks after our return from the Netherlands, I'd been caught in a whirlwind of tests, procedures, and bed confinements as the world tried to figure out just how severe my impending doom was. Somewhere in the large mess of hospital visits, my favorite cyborg had gotten lost from sight while I came to terms with the future. He still texted and called me day in and day out, but I had been somewhat crushed the day I returned from my first post-trip MRI and he wasn't waiting with tulips.

"It's not a metaphor. It's _Romeo and Juliet_ ," he defended himself, the goofy grin not leaving his face for one second.

"I don't really remember this part, or Romeo just whispering her name like some sort of pedophile." Ok, now I was just ruthlessly mocking him.

He struggled to cling to his confidence. "I don't remember what Romeo said. I just wanted to climb your house." Gus proudly held out the daisy, his innocent expression making my brain rock with laughter. How did I ever find someone like Gus, someone you couldn't find again in a million years?

I grinned downwards. "Why don't you climb to my front door and I'll do the rest?" He nodded in submission. I made my way to the stairway, trying desperately to ignore the nagging fuzzy feeling in my stomach and the ringing in my ears that had started soon after I stood up. My condition was deteriorating, and I knew it – but if I stayed positive enough, I was always able to overlook the pain. I was lucky to be intact for as long as I had been – my parents knew it, too. A few years ago, I would have been hospitalized all this time by my protective family for sure…but now, they felt the need to give me the reins for the remainder of my mobility. I took the steps down slow and steady, just like my cancer. He was already in the living room, inviting himself into the house and greeting my mother before she floated out of the room. He'd been over enough times to be trusted with me, and knowing Mom, she probably didn't want him to see her let out as much as a sniffle.

Gus looked like he'd just escaped from an insane asylum. It was ridiculous. It didn't look like he'd combed his hair, either. A sparkle of silver shone from between the cuff of his jeans and the lip of his shoe, just barely revealing his condition – what I would give for these cancer cells to turn to metal.

"V for Vendetta?" he coaxed, pulling a weathered-looking DVD from his back pocket and waving it above his head. I smiled and allowed him to take my hand, leading me deeper into the living room. He glanced back about every 2 seconds to make sure I was intact, like an expectant little kid waiting for their parent to follow. I tried not to let him realize how cold my hands were, or how much like poisoned Juliet I actually felt.

A half-hour later, I found myself sideways – upside down – I'm not quite sure which way on the couch. All I knew was that Gus and I were jumbled together, and Philip wasn't very far away from the knot. All I knew was that seeing him again made me happier than anything in the world, and I didn't want him to leave. All I knew was that this was realer than every day of the past week combined.

"Hey, Hazel?"

"Myaa?" I had no idea what other language I'd just emitted in my blissful haze, but I couldn't undo it. "Yeah?"

He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, At the streaks of sunlight. At Heaven. "It's so nice out today…I never want to miss spending a day like this with you, got it?"

"Stop being so mushy, Gus. You're ruining the mood," I complained, adjusting my body to better see the fight scene erupting on my TV. I hoped he knew I was half-joking.

He knew. Gus stifled a laugh, but brought his hair to rest in my hair. "I mean it, though. No more ditching me for doctors, no matter how sexy they are."

I turned to him and raised my eyebrows. "Oh?" He winked and jabbed his hand out to tickle my armpit before I could escape. I snorted, my eyes widening in horror at the repulsive sound. He barely noticed as he reached even further to pin down my flailing legs. "Haha, Gus!" I squeaked, enjoying the struggle. Suddenly, I twisted and my side burned. "Ow-" I tried to twist back, and my torso caught on fire. "Agh – OW, GUS, STOP IT!" He froze mid-tickle. The pain that shot through my body seemed like nothing compared to the look that crossed his face at my scream. Dead silence came between us for a few seconds; I could feel both of our hearts beating like rabbits'. I closed my eyes, both to focus on numbing the pain and to escape from the chilling sight of Gus' trembling expression.

I was so angry at myself. I wished I had ignored the pain – I would have rather let it get worse than let Gus go. Luckily, we had separated a little before my mom came stampeding into the living room. "HAZEL?" Thank god we looked decent – I didn't want her to suspect anything close to the Amsterdam incident.

"Mom, I'm fine. My side just hurt for a second. I can't even feel it anymore." I smiled at her. I was so good at this. But I wasn't fine.

She glared at me in confusion. "Are you absolutely sure?" Her eyes bored into the back of Gus' brain, but he stared straight ahead. He swallowed with guilt, his hand twitching in the corner of my vision. I could still feel his heart racing. "Yes."

Mom backed away slowly, not trusting us for one second. Once she was gone, I turned slowly back to face an unsteady Gus. His eyebrows furrowed together, he opened his gaze wide into mine. " _Are_ you okay?" he whispered. I nodded, mentally filing away the throb in my abdomen. I didn't need his sympathy right now – I just needed things to go back to the way they were.

He leaned slightly away from me, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes in what must have been the longest blink in the history of the world. I nuzzled my head into the crook of his shoulder. "I love you," I said firmly.

He returned from his corner of silence and drew me in again with his arm. I could see a part of him collapsing as he shoved it down beneath his heart. "I love you, too."

I couldn't help but fear for him. I was only going to get worse, and I needed him to be my strength. What was I going to do when I couldn't reassure him I was okay anymore? It didn't work now, and I wasn't even close to being bedridden – for the moment.

I started drifting off after a few minutes, not even paying attention to the battle on the screen anymore. Through a bubble of numb skin, I distantly felt Gus begin to play with my hair, weaving the choppy strands between his fingers. It was like he was afraid to touch my skin in fear of what might happen, and my hair was the only safe zone for him to stay. Even so, he was cautious, massaging me into a gradual sleep. I wasn't sure how my head had ended up in his lap, but I curled my feet onto the couch and tried to enjoy every last second of awareness.

This was my reality – even Gus was far away now that he knew how fragile I could be. I barely felt alive. Why couldn't they all see that the thing I was most desperate for was to be alive? As I went limp in the presence of the boy I loved, I felt a pang of horror as I realized I was already buried.

I was a corpse. Not a starfish. A corpse.


End file.
